You Just Have to Realize What I Mean
by Pinlicous
Summary: Set during season four before Dean realizes what his little brother is up to. He knows something's up and it pisses him off that Sam won't let him in on it. Castiel intervenes, meanwhile, growing wry of Dean's attitude and disrespect. The angel whirls him into an alternate dimension, or so Dean guesses. Sam/Dean Fluff


**Author's Note **This is not beta'd apart from my reading and re-reading. I tried to avoid changing tenses within my work, so hopefully that showed in this piece. If you would like to correct me of any errors, by all means, message me. Thank you in advanced!

To be honest, this was something that has been floating in my head since a few days ago. It's one of those things that shows up and is so vividly represented that someone has to write it! And thankfully I was excited to write. However, a lot of it is made up on the spot. I'm very sporadic when it comes to writing.

* * *

Despite the heated words from earlier, the room was in dead silence. Only the soft fall of rain could be heard. The raindrops tapped against the window, sending soothing white noise across the dark room. Their shadows cast against every surface of the small, cramped hotel room and it created a surreal encompassment around Dean. Ruffling bags bounced against the bed as clothing and other personal effects were roughly shoved into them. The beds were disheveled, neither of the boys cared to make them. Not even Sam.

"Hurry up, will ya?" Dean grunted, tugging his duffel bag off the bed and over his shoulder. There was no reply from the bathroom, but Dean wasn't in the mood to repeat himself. He shoved his way out of the hotel door, not even bothering to slam it behind him. Jerking the car door open, the loud squeak of the hinges almost startled his anger. He shook his head, swearing under his breath.

He peered down at the gravel beneath his feet. He concentrated on it, hoping to stifle his anger in some way. When the anger still heated his skin, Dean sighed, closing his eyes. Thoughts started to bounce around in his head and it made him think back to previous hours. Sam was hiding something from Dean and Dean needed to know what it was. In fear of losing the only thing that grounded him to this world, Dean desperately grasped his brother's arm and begged for him to spit it out. Sam had only looked away, stiffening his shoulders in argument.

_"Dean, I'm sorry..."_

"No you aren't, god dammit!" Dean's fist met the Impala's roof with a loud _thud_, mimicking the actions his anger had inflicted on Sam in those earlier hours. He tried so hard to protect him and yet Sam wouldn't let himself be protected. Dean knew fair well that Sam was a grown man now and he deserved to be treated as one. But something wasn't right with Sam. There was no telling what he had been through while Dean burned in hell and, yes, maybe he shouldn't stick his nose into everything his brother did. In spite of all that, what Sam was up to couldn't be good. Intentionally corrupt or not.

It isn't as if he mistrusted Sam. Sam was naive, however much he had grown up. Dean was Sam's older brother and he needed to look after him. At least, that was what he thought an older brother was suppose to do and he was the _prime example_ of brother of the year. He practically raised the kid, so who was to say he didn't know what was right for Sam?

He felt like he was some kind of father once he thought about that. It made him smile.

The unexpected flutter of wings ripped him of his thoughts. He gripped tightly on his gun that was securely tucked in the back of his jeans. Whipping around, he found Castiel was frowning at him.

"Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to the car and warned, "Look, I'm not in the mood for your destiny crap, okay?"

But Castiel didn't seem in the mood for Dean's crap, either, as he clasped Dean's shoulder. He tugged the Winchester around to face him and shoved his back against the Impala.

"You have to apologize to your brother and set things right," Castiel growled. His eyes burned with blue flames, clearly angered by Dean's asinine attitude. Dean leaned back into the Impala, threats and jokes stripped from him in favor of fear. Castiel's hand raised his hand and touched his palm lightly to Dean's forehead. Dean's memories flashed back to the Djinn that threatened to suck his life's blood from his body while it allowed him a (falsely) happy ending.

Dean's heart rate quickened as his body became lax. Sweat beaded up on his skin and he feared he was going to lose himself in another fantasy his life would never give him. He couldn't leave Sam like that again; Not like this. With one final plea, he raised his own hand to Castiel's shoulder and he gripped the fabric fiercely. His eyes communicated his pleas he could not vocalize.

"Don't worry. I will not hurt you," Castiel whispered before Dean collapsed into his arms.

[*]

Dean took in a calm, deep breath once he felt his body at ease. He swallowed in hopes of wetting his tried throat. The sun was baring down on his skin; he could feel it. He scratched the stubble on his face, yawning, and opened his eyes and his eyebrows came together in confusion at his new surroundings.

It was mourning now, obviously, but that wasn't the only thing that startled him. The ceiling wasn't a ceiling of some random hotel. It was prickled with soft dots of raised edges and the color was a stark white in contrast to most yellowed rented ceilings. A quaint light fixture hung above him, only slightly escaping his straight forward view. It wasn't dirtied or soiled by any dead bugs. His senses came to also realize the softness of the bed he lay in. That was the final clue.

But something else was odd to him. He felt a comforting heat beside him as if there was another person beside him. He sat up, taking in the room before settling his eyes on the form that lay next to him.

Dean jumped out of bed, backing away several steps before releasing his breath. Sam was strewn out among the large king bed, on his stomach, one leg sticking out from under the haphazard quilt he was balled up in. The gentle rise and fall of his back only abated Dean's incredulous thoughts lightly. Since when did Sam share a bed with him? Since when did they stay in some beautiful, clean house instead of a grimy, sleaze-bag motel?

Thankfully, Sam was completely clothed in pajamas, as was Dean. He allowed himself that one.

He shook his head and decided breakfast was a good idea. He made his way out of the bedroom door, ascended the long, carpeted stairwell, and stepped his bare feet on more soft carpet. It was a pleasant cream color as it contrasted beautifully with the deep rose red of the walls. Looking at them, he noticed various pictures. He walked up to them, studying each one carefully.

All of them were of Sam and Dean. Yet, none of them were of them on the road, in the Impala, or in any of the previous hotel rooms they had stayed in. None of them were of memories he could recall, either.

Was this their house? They had a house? They slept together in the same bed?

Dean shook the thoughts, forcing what he presumed to be the kitchen door open. He was correct and boy was it one hell of a kitchen. The same color as the previous room's walls transcended into this room. It played nicely along the white counter top made of- holy shit- granite. Dean glided his hand along the smooth face of it, crazed at how easily his hand moved against it. He stopped when he saw the sparkling coffee maker. He affiliated it's black color with that of the Impala's. He could nearly see his reflection.

It was much more complicated then any other of the trashy models Dean had seen before, but the buttons were color coordinated and bore large print underneath them. He took a chance and added fresh coffee grains (which smelt like fucking heaven, by the way) into a filter. When the pot began to fill with the brewed drink, the aroma made him feel as if he was on clouds.

Damn it made him hungry, though. He had noted the large silver refrigerator the moment he came into the room, but only now did he yank open the door. And by god, if the coffee wasn't there, he'd still feel as if he was in heaven. Meat upon glorious meat dotted the inside of it. It wasn't week old crap or dried up jerky. No, it was fresh, professionally cut meat. And it tasted like a sin.

He ditched the tiny slices of meat, however, for the carton of eggs and package of bacon. He went through the cupboards in hopes of finding pancake mix.

Jack pot.

"Wow, you making breakfast?"

Dean whirled around to see Sam, still dressed in his pajamas, swinging open the kitchen door. A bright, heavy smile nestled itself on his lips. His hazel eyes glinted in the mourning sun and Dean didn't know what to make of his gloriously content mood.

"Yeah, so what?" Dean grunted, turning back around. He heard Sam chuckle and he couldn't help the small grin that played across his own face.

"Well, you haven't made breakfast in, like, what? Three years?" Sam said as he pulled out a chair from the table.

"It's not like we've had a kitchen like this before," Dean replied, waving his free hand around the room while he flipped a pancake with his other that held a spatula. When Dean turned around again he saw the smile on Sam's face turn into something of confusion. Sam shrugged it off when the hearty smell of food flooded his nostrils, though.

They sat in silence, but a comfortable kind of silence. The small scrap of utensil meeting their plates was enough to keep their ears occupied.

After they ate, Sam seemed to rush outside the room. Dean followed, neglecting his plate still left on the table.

"Hey, where are you going? We need to talk."

Sam whirled around this time, meeting Dean's eyes immediately. He cocked his head in wonderment. "Talk about what?"

"What do you mean what? This!" Dean gestured to what appeared to be the living room. It bore a large white couch and a very large flat screen television.

"What do you mean, _this_?" Sam chuckled again, stepping closer to Dean.

For a minute, Dean's breath caught in his throat. Sam's face was inching closer to his and he didn't have a clue of how to stop it. He backed away a step, holding up his hands.

"Dude. Brothers here."

"Oh come on, don't be that way, Dean. I gotta get ready for work."

"Work, what do you mean work? Like a case?"

"Well, yeah, Dean. The one I need to be in court for _right now_."

Dean's eyes grew large and Sam must have been able to tell because his confused face became even more so. He placed his hand down softly onto Dean's shoulder, taking the step back forward into Dean's space. Dean noticed a faint shine out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed Sam's hand and jerked it into view.

Mary's ring made itself home on Sam's ring finger and it felt as if it was radiating off his skin. Dean's brows came together as his gaze slowly moved back to his brother's eyes. And for the first time since he woke up, Dean could feel an overwhelmingly heavy object on his own ring finger.

"We're married?"

"Uh, yeah, Dean. Like two months ago." Sam's face was that of worry now, but he still seemed to be waiting for Dean to crack completely or something. How much more cracked could he be?

"Like... you and me... together? Married together? To each other?"

"Alright, Dean, what is going on? Are you alright?" Sam finally lifted a hand to Dean's forehead. He noticed no fever and he wasn't sweating, so he merely dropped his hand.

"No, no I'm not alright," Dean fretted as he took another step back. He glanced all over the room, noticing more pictures. This time, they were almost staring at him, or so he felt. He birred over to a set of them which laid atop a small, wooden dresser. They featured Sam and Dean both in abruptly white suits, a red rose settled in the chest pocket of both their outfits. They were standing over an elegantly designed arch, holding hands and...

_kissing._

"Dean. Dean!" Sam's voice was echoing in his head and he wasn't aware of how to snap out of the damn haze he was in, but all he could muster from his brain was the images of Sam and him, together, happy, at peace. Sam snapped his fingers in front of Dean's face and that finally drove him out of his glossed over brain work. "Do I need to stay home?"

Dean shook his head because, apparently, speech wasn't the part of his brain that was working at the moment. Sam's eyes flickered between both of Dean's, contemplating whether to believe him or not. He finally settled with a sharp nod and inched his face closer to Dean's again. Stuck on what the hell to do-_again_- Dean forced his face to the side. Sam's lips met his cheek. When Sam backed away, he looked somewhat hurt.

"Just... I need to sort all of this out. Please."

Sincerity was evident in his voice and Sam allowed him another nod. Sam still hesitated before running up the stairs to get ready, but when he was gone, Dean could breath a sigh of relief. His thoughts were racing between right and wrong; how the hell this happened and why the hell it happened. He was so caught up in it he didn't hear the "be back tonight" Sam uttered before escaping out the door. He heard the faint slam of a car door, though, and it was soon followed by the telephone's obnoxious ringing. Since when did they have a home phone? Oh, right, must have been when _they got the home_.

Dean sauntered over to it reluctantly and jerked the receiver to his ear.

"Where the hell are you, man?" A voice demanded into the phone before Dean could even utter a word and it reminded him of a watered down version of Cas' voice.

Cas. _Ding ding ding_.

"Cas? You son of a bitch, what did you do?"

Dean couldn't help himself from yelling. The silence on the other end of the call didn't help him feel any better after he realized that this Cas might not be his Cas.

"What are you talking about? You're the one being a bitch right now. Get your ass over to the shop or I'll make you fire yourself."

"Shop? What shop?" _Please don't be some flamboyant Wicca shop_.

"Oh, y'know, the mechanic shop you so happen to_ own_?"

Dean decided that this Cas was a much improved version of the one he had back home.

Dean managed to navigate the city with minimal effort thanks to the GPS installed into his car. When he got it, he wasn't aware. All he knew was that he was happy to still have his Baby. And thanks to the GPS, he knew that he, somehow along with Sam- in the same house...- lived in Topeka, Kansas. Why they had picked the capitol was beyond him, but then again, much of what was around him was beyond himself at the moment. Besides, He has always enjoyed large cities.

When he arrived at the shop he noticed various cars parked in "awaiting a fix-up" spaces. He must have thought that one up. It was too cool not to have his brains involved in it. He, maybe no too nonchalantly, shifted his gaze to the many cracks in the walls and oil stains on the concrete floor. He noticed a car raised on a car lift and another flat on the ground, awaiting it's engine to be place back under it's hood. It was love at "first" sight.

"Hey, man, you okay?" A clap to the back startled Dean and he absently dug in the back of his jeans. No gun. Good thing, though, because it was only Cas the Mechanic.

"Uh, yeah... Well, not really." Castiel's eyebrow quirked up as he tilted his head. Some things never change.

"Anyway, the minivan over there could use a quick oil change," Cas interjected, jerking his thumb behind himself. A mother and two kids were waiting beside it as one of the employees chatted with them. One of his employees, apparently. "They were on their way out of town when the light came on."

Dean nodded absently. He'd changed the Impala's oil a million times, but was rusty with any other type of vehicle. He wasn't even sure if he should take the time to mess with all of this crap. He had to get back to his Sammy.

_His Sammy_. Thinking that made him grimace for a second.

"So, uh, I'm married," Dean blurted out after sliding under the minivan. He swore he could hear Cas' eyes roll.

"No need to rub your gay, incestuous marital status in my face, Dean." _Incestuous_ made Dean jerk his knee, hitting up against the car. A swear from Dean got a laugh from Cas. "Yeah, I'm not quite over that one yet either. Still..."

When Dean pulled back out from under the car, his face was splattered with oil. "Thanks. Couldn't you have waited 'til I was done with the oil?"

"No, I think it's a good look on you."

Cas threw a oil rag down on his face and whistled as he walked away.

[*]

Dean came through the front door wiping his still oily hands on the rag Cas had provided him. Some how Cas had caught him up in every odd job he could think of and Dean just gave in to the sweet temptations.

He wasn't paying attention, looking down at the floor when Sam said, "Woah, Dean, what happened?"

Dean looked up and caught his breath. Sam had only undone one of the black buttons of his suit before Dean walked in. The deep blue of his suit played off his brownish eyes, making them look darker and deeper. Dean had vaguely remembered Sam in various FBI suits, but that was when they were working. Seeing him now, in a suit made for a purpose other than lying and a situation void of any suspect studying, Dean couldn't stop marveling at Sam. He finally had a glimpse of just how much Sam had grown up and his thoughts of Sam being naive and young almost disappeared into thin air.

Sam was walking over to him when his mind cleared. Sam was close to him again and Dean forced himself to meet his eyes this time. The smile Sam wore this morning settled on his mouth again right before they met his own. Dean jumped slightly, jerking his hands away from Sam's suit once he realized they were aiming for it. Sam didn't let up on the kiss, however, and started pressing down harder.

"Mmph," Sam moaned into his mouth as he snaked his arm around Dean's back.

For some god damned, incest-driven sinful reason, he allowed it. He allowed himself to close his eyes, drive up into the kiss, and wrap his arms around his baby brother. Sam's tongue played at his bottom lip and he whimpered when Dean took too long to open his mouth. If Dean wasn't so damned into the kiss, he probably would have made some sarcastic remark about how girly Sam was acting. But he didn't. He just parted his chapped lips, darting his tongue out to meet Sam's.

"'Missed you this morning," Sam mumbled into his brother's lips, tightening his grasp on Dean. Dean nodded, face scrunching slightly at how easy it was to do this.

Sam backed away slowly and Dean subconsciously leaned back into him. When their lips met again, Dean smiled into the kiss.

"Okay, okay. Easy there."Sam said, his voice was calm and maybe slightly deeper because of the kiss. Dean reluctantly backed away and he opened his eyes. "How about you tell me about this morning?"

Dean' wanted to avoid it like he avoided everything else, but this time Dean wanted to know just as much as his brother did.

"Look, man, I dunno what's up. One minute I'm in a very _familiar_ hotel room and then I wake up to a very _unfamiliar_ house," Dean forces out, keeping his tone careful. This Sam is obviously unaware of the very drastic changes Dean is experiencing.

"What are you talking about? Dean, last night, I got home late and you were already sleeping."

"I know, but... I'm not who _your Dean_ is," Dean tries, but is abruptly cut off by Sam.

"Dean, of course your _my_ Dean. Come on, you're scaring me."

Sam's hands are placed on Dean's shoulders again, gripping tightly, face sketched with worry again. Dean slid his hands up to meet his brothers, giving a comforting squeeze.

"I don't think... Alright, well, I don't know what's going on. The one thing I do know is, is that I'm not from this time or place or fantasy. Whatever this is."

Sam takes hold of Dean's hold on his hands as a lifeline, reluctantly playing along to Dean's suspicions. "You mean like an alternate dimension, or something?"

"Yeah... yeah, that sounds right," Dean said as he nodded his head. He looked off to the side to keep scouring his brain for possible explanations. His mind flashed to the moments just before he woke up; Castiel worked some kind of angel mojo on him. "Or it could be something like that Djinn did to me."

"Well, that could be, I guess," Sam agrees weakly, trailing off slightly before noticing the look on Dean's face. "I mean. Don't you have to wish for this kind of thing to happen? And right now, you seem a lot more freaked out than you should be if you _wanted_ this to happen."

"Well, then again, Cas doesn't have that kind of power."

Sam gave him a quizzical look, but said nothing.

"Cas did something to me. That's the last memory I have before I woke up this morning."

"Wait. I remember you saying something about that somewhere around three years ago. Back when we were fighting about..." Dean caught himself leaning into Sam, trying to be able to hear everything. Sam must have suspected something, because he raised up his hand. "Oh no. If I know me- every version I may be of me- that, if I didn't tell you then, I wanted to kept to myself."

"Come on, Sammy. I need to know. It might be important," Dean coaxed, even going as far as to motion his hands toward himself.

"No, because I was doing what I thought was right back then. Okay?"

Dean could see the hurt rising up in Sam's eyes. The kind he saw last night- or at least, his last night before this disaster happened. He knew he'd have to change the subject, because he couldn't bare to see that old Sam come back. Not when he seemed so happy now.

"Okay, okay. Ugh... well, maybe seeing some old crap we've been through since that night might help?"

Sam seemed inclined to the idea, sticking out his bottom lip in concentration. That shouldn't have done things to Dean, but it did.

"We've got a photos," Sam offered as he began to walk toward the dresser. He opened it up and lifted out a large, black photo album.

"What? We've become _that_ domesticated? What do we do? Take pictures of monsters we kill?" Dean started to laugh, but the look Sam gave him shut him up. "Don't tell me we stopped hunting."

Sam was about to speak, but Dean cut him off.

"Are you serious? How long? Wait, lemme guess. Three years? What's up with three years."

Sam was giving him a bitch face the whole time Dean rambled out the questions. Finally, when Dean shut his hole, Sam began to speak.

"We stopped hunting the night _after_ the last night you remember," Sam replied, gesturing with his finger, placing the events in order with it. When Dean didn't ask anymore questions, Sam walked over to the couch and sat down. He put the photo album on the coffee table and opened it to the first set of photos. Dean joined him, peering over the memories he was suppose to have.

"We actually went to see the Grand Canyon? For real?" Dean said with disbelief, running his finger over the photo. Sam and Dean were leaning against the metal guard rail, smiling at the camera.

"Yeah. Bobby insisted we go since we gave up hunting. You were getting really restless."

"Pf, me, restless?" He scoffed, looking at Sam. When he saw the bitch face 3000, he quickly thought up some excuse. "Well, I mean, uh... Hunting is- or was or whatever- what we have always done."

"Right," was all Sam offered him before slipping the page. A new set of images, bright and sickeningly cheerful, stung his eyes. Each turn of the page provided more and more insight into how, exactly, they got together. It was in every photo. The look they had in their eyes and the massive smiles they bore on their faces. Each new photo visualized the metaphorical weight floating off their backs. Each new photo pictured them getting physically closer and closer until Dean just right out and wrapped his arm around Sam's waist.

And then they got to the wedding photos. Dean wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to see them. Whether it was because he still couldn't handle that he and Sam were married or if he didn't want to spoil the surprise. He opted for the former.

"Heh, I knew I'd be the groom," Dean remarked, a large smirk obvious on his lips. Sam didn't even have to look at him to tell that much.

"Yeah, well, if I didn't let you, you'd be bitching about it forever."

"Hold on, wait- is that _Bobby?_" Dean pointed to the largest photo in the album. Sam and Bobby where snapped mid-stride between the two long rows of white church pews covered in rose petals.

Really? That girly. Must have been Sam's idea.

"Yeah. Heh, you missed the best conversation ever, Dean," Sam lead in sarcastically before telling the whole story.

"Wow...," Dean breathed, sitting back against the couch. His eyebrows were raised high on his head with incredulity. Sam leaned back, too, subconsciously throwing his arm on the back of the couch and nearly wrapping it around Dean's neck before stopping himself.

"You could at least fake a yawn, man."

"This isn't really our first date or anything, Dean," Sam provided, smiling and taking his arm away. Dean caught his wrist quickly, though, and brought it back down.

"Look. I like it here. I'd even go as far as to say I _love_ it here. I mean, who doesn't like granite counter tops and a freaking coffee maker T-1000? But-"

"You're too imaginative with names."

"_But_, I don't know if I'm really here or if this is a dream. And if I'm really here, then my Sammy back home needs me. I can't leave him alone."

Sam nodded and raised his hand to Dean's cheek affectionately. "I know, Dean. And whatever it takes, I'll help you get back."

Dean looked into his eyes, searching for the understanding Sam's voice had held. It was right there, for some god awful reason it was there. "How can you just believe me so easily? I mean, apparently we've been together for god knows how long and all of a sudden I wake up a head case?"

"Well, you've always been a head case," Sam cackled lightly. Dean gave him a face, nodded, but Sam just smiled and continued. "But I've always been with you, too. I know when to believe you."

"Oh, you do, do you? What if I'm just messing with you? I'm guessing we still play pranks on each other, right?" Dean smirked at his witty retort, but wondered vaguely if it was a smart idea. Sam was willing to help him and he could easily mess with that.

"True. And, yeah, we do. But if this is a prank I will get you back so hard," Sam threatened just before getting up. "Anyway. I remember you talking about something that Cas did just before we quit hunting. So, best bet is to go talk to him."

Dean chewed on the inside of his mouth. He felt almost stupid for letting himself get carried away by the shop so much so that he neglected even asking Cas straight out.

[*]

"Wait, so, Cas fell? When did this happen?"

"A couple months after we decided to quit hunting. He was pretty far gone in the angel department prior to that already, so..."

"Does he... regret it?"

Sam looked over to Dean who was in the passengers seat. Sam insisted on driving since he knew the way to Cas' house and Dean was fine with not messing with the GPS anymore then he had to.

"Why not ask him yourself?" Sam smiled warmly at him. "As far as I can tell, anyway, he's fine with it. He seems happier."

"We all kind of seem happier. A little too happy."

"Dean, Dean, Dean. You can never let things be, can you?" Sam joked, running his hand along Dean's thigh. Dean twitched away, spitting out a small "sorry" before looking away. Just because he could kiss his brother didn't mean Sam could be so close to his jewels.

How can that thought even begin to reach reality?

"S'okay, man. Were here."

When the Impala was shifted into park, Dean jumped out as quickly as he could.

He eyed the estate. A large water fountain was gushing crystal clear water and it was surrounded by various animal-shaped hedges. The lawn was enormous, stretching at least a yard before it reached the front door. The large walkway up to the house was paved in a clay-colored cement and it was embellished with neatly trimmed bushes on it's outer edges.

"Dude. This guy is a mechanic. How the hell does he own this?"

"Well, Cas may have taken a few ancient artifacts before totally falling? Its the reason why we have the house we do."

"And you let him _why_?"

"Hey, I didn't want him to. You were the one who was all 'come on, Sammy, it's the break we always deserved'," Sam defended, using his best Dean impression. It was utter crap, but it made Dean laugh nonetheless.

It took them, literally, a minute to walk up to the large mansion. And now that Dean was closer, he noticed the depth of the red brick the house was made of. Large flowers of many varieties where planted elegantly along side the house's front porch. The porch was a deep, rich mahogany color. When the brothers stepped on it, Dean could practically feel how expensive it was. It was just... unreal. An angel adorning a mansion with every possible greedy human object he could. Dean had to shake his head for a moment. Just to keep his sanity.

"Is he even going to answer the door or is Alfred gonna do the honors?"

"Very funny, Dean."

"Actually, my name is Winston." The butler interjected. Both of them hadn't noticed the door open, but both of them looked away in embarrassment.

"This guy...," Dean complained as he stepped through the doorway. Dean immediately took in the ravishing details of each meticulously etched pillar making their ways down the long, brightly lit corridor. Indoor lighting made the pillars glisten with yellow light and it bounced off the shiny floors the three walked across. He could freaking see himself in it. He looked over to blabber about it to Sam, but Dean caught his breath. Again with the romantic crap he was feeling.

The yellow light added to the hazel in Sam's eyes and Dean pretty much made up his mind then that everything complimented the damn things. He cleared in throat and looked away.

At the end of the corridor, a grande double door made itself home between the large, white, granite walls. Beyond the door was the "masters" living quarters, or so Winston stated. Sam thanked the man before elbowing Dean. Dean complied with a nod and opted to open one of the double doors.

Sure enough, the room was decorated in every kind of sinful luxury item a man could buy. Castiel was sitting snugly in his arm chair, feet propped up on a stain glass coffee table. Dean wasn't even aware they made shit like that.

"Hello, boys," he greeted, tipping up his wine glass while nodding in their general direction. Dean wanted to bitch at him, but he knew Sam wouldn't let him. And, to be honest, if he even shared some of his wealth with them, Dean was okay with it. Even if it was a little overboard.

One look at the whiskey cabinet (which was stacked with freaking 50 year old whiskey), though, made him retract his earlier appeasement.

It was _really_ overboard.

Dean guessed that Sam wasn't use to the house, either, because he hesitated before sitting down across from Cas. Cas smiled at him, though, and looked over at Dean to invite him over.

"So, Cas, Dean here is having some trouble. Think you could help?"

"Trouble with what? Dean, did you get some kind of STD? You know I can't-"

"Alright, alright, stop it," Dean pleaded, bowing his head and waving his arms in front of him. "Look, I think I'm in some alternate dimension or something. Cause, one minute I was back at the hotel three years ago and the next I'm here, in this freaking billionaire mansion."

Cas nodded in thanks before speaking. "Well, that's odd. What do you remember before waking?"

Dean explained everything, carefully studying Cas' expression to pick out any kind of lie. He didn't find one, but then again, Cas wasn't really hiding anything when he began to speak again.

"This isn't an alternate dimension. In fact, this is merely three years into the future. For you, at least. This is our present now."

"How do you know that, exactly?"

"Well, because, the situation you described me actually happened. And I sent you into the future three years from that current point in time. If you had confessed your feelings for Sam, that is."

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. I don't have these kinds of feelings for Sam. Not where I'm from."

Dean quickly glanced over to Sam, regretting saying it in front of him. He gave him a sympathetic look, but returned his attention to Castiel.

"No, you were just too bull headed to realize you had feelings for him," Cas protested, taking a long sip of his wine. "Why do you think I even went through the trouble to throw you in the future?"

"Well, I think it was a pretty dick move considering Sammy is probably back there, worrying like hell. He needs me, Cas."

"Oh, no, you yourself are not physically in the future. It's merely just your current brain waves. Your body is still three years in the past, and probably sleeping like a log," Cas said with confidence, somehow imitating a three year old proud to have walked all the way to the other side of the house all on his own. "It takes less 'mojo' that way."

Dean was speechless. Thoughts were racing in his head and he couldn't believe that any of this was real. All he had to do was say "hey, Sammy, never brought this up before, but I've got the hots for you" and blindly accept that fact that nothing weird will come of it? That something this soulfully good can come of some sinful, incestuous relationship?

"Sin is only a human idea," Cas explained as he noted the look on Dean's face.

"What about Lilith? The seals? The apocalypse?"

"None of that happens because, well... Sam can tell you when he is ready. But he was apart of the mess just as much as you were."

"It's that simple? How can it be that simple?"

"You don't over think it and you sit your ass down with Sam and talk about it. Whether you like it or not." Cas' voice was commanding, but not angry.

Sam laid a gentle touch to Dean's shoulder and shook him just as gently.

"How do I get back, then? Seeing as you aren't an angel anymore."

"Easy. You just have realize what I mean."

"Well, what do I have to realize, then?" Dean says flatly.

"Find it out yourself. Otherwise you'll be stuck here forever," Castiel warmed, turning his face toward the large fireplace illuminating the room.

[*]

Sam and Dean were now back a home, forced out of the house by Cas. Apparently he thought they could use some alone time to really "realize what he meant". It made Dean shiver even now as he sat on the upstairs bed. Sam was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and freshly out of the shower. Dean wouldn't admit it out loud, but his heart the hammering in his chest and sending awkward sexual images up to his brain. He knew he could easily say "not tonight, Sammy" or "maybe I should go sleep on the couch?", but another part of him knew that Sam was worried about him. And Sam deserved to be this god damn happy. He deserved to live a nice, normal life that he wanted. And the only reason why he wasn't able to do that before was because of Dean. And it wouldn't hurt Dean to give in to him for once and give Sam what he had taken away by dragging him away from Jess.

And by the way he'd reacted to Sam's lips, his body, his words... Dean must have had some kind of feelings for Sam. And maybe it was just what was happening, but he could vaguely remember feeling this way before. Maybe not as strongly, but it was there, nonetheless.

And when Sam came out of the bathroom, flicked off the light, and shuffled in under the covers, Dean didn't back away or leave. He nestled himself up against Sam's arm and turned his head to look at him.

"Hey," Sam sighed softly, a hint of a smile finding its way to Dean through the darkness.

"Hey."

"You going to be alright? I can leave. Sleep on the couch."

Dean was surprised at how pliant Sam was being. He would have commented on how submissive he was being, but at this point, Dean knew how much Sam was giving up. Dean was grateful.

"Stay," He replied, reaching his arm over Sam's chest to take a hold of his other arm. He pulled Sam close, nesting his chin atop his brother's head.

Sam relaxed into his chest and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Do we, uh... say _those_ words."

Sam was confused for a second, but caught on eventually. "Uh, well, no. I do, yeah, but you don't. And, that's okay, cause I get why."

Dean just nodded, threading his hands throw his brother's hair. He smiled at how long Sam's hair had gotten.

"Out of all the things we've been through together, I never guess that this kind of thing would be one of them."

"I didn't either, really. I wanted it for a long time, but I was too afraid, maybe even a little ashamed, to tell you."

"Yeah, I'd probably freak out."

Sam chuckled, digging his nose into the pulse point of Dean's neck. Dean leaned into Sam then, connecting their hips for a moment. His heart was hammering harder than earlier, but this time Dean let it. He rocked his hips forward again in hopes for the contact to return. Sam consented with a soft moan he couldn't help but breathe out. For a moment, Dean could feel Sam stiffening in uncertainty.

"Are you sure?"

Sam nibbled at Dean's neck as the only available distraction. When Dean rolled them over and was grinding his hips down into his, he knew that was a yes. He let another moan escape his mouth when Dean started to suck on Sam's throat in return. Dean was getting hard, smashing their hips together almost wildly. He couldn't believe how much he had missed.

Between the moans and the squeaking of the bed, Dean had lost himself. Sam's body heat was so comforting and so amazing, and Sam chuckled at the sight of Dean losing it and it made Dean only that much more excited.

"God..." He breathed as soon as their hips contacted again. He could feel Sam's hardness on his own and it blissed him out way more than it should. "Are we always this crazy?"

"Not since forever," Sam confessed, but quickly added, "but it's always this good."

It was Dean's turn to chuckle. He wrapped his arms around Sam's neck and pulled him up into a sitting position. Sam's hands searched all over his body, making Dean's head throw back in lustful pleasure.

"I freaking love your hands."

"I've heard that one before," Sam boasted, licking a long trail up from Dean's shoulder to the base of this neck.

They had only managed to pull their shirts off so far and Dean wasn't sure he was coherent enough to strip completely. He could work with it, though, as he felt Sam's hand brush past the waistband of his sweats.

"Oh my god, Sammy," Dean groaned into Sam's ear, toppling backwards on the bed. Sam took advantage of the situation and sneaked his hand past Dean's underwear.

_"You just have to realize what I mean."_

"What'd you say?" Dean questioned lazily, mouthing hotly on Sam's throat.

Or was that a pillow?

He shot out up on his arms, lingering his gaze upon the spit slathered pillow.

"The hell was that?"

Dean felt his slumber catch up to him as he got up. His eyes started to sting from the light of the moon bouncing off the water droplets still ever present on the hotel window. He tried to swallow, but ended up gagging on the lump in his throat. During his attempts to wet his throat, he caught a figure laying down in the bed next to his. Long, floppy hair, coat bunched up above the small of his back, on his stomach as his face smashed up into his pillow. Good 'ol Sammy.

His attention snapped back to the words he heard just before waking. They were slipping quickly from his mind, but the voice that was mistaken for Sam's at first was now the familiar low growl of Castiel's voice. Did Cas just try to show Dean that he could have a sinful relationship with his younger brother? Or was he just playing one of those "funniest joke in the Garrison" jokes again? Perhaps just a really erotic dream with Cas as the co-pilot?

Either way, his mind wondered to the still fresh image of _other_ Sam's lips pressing hard against his and his hand down Dean's pants. His view shifted to the form on the bed furthest from the door. And he couldn't- or at least didn't want to- stop his hand from reaching out and rolling Sam over. Sam's eyes slit open slightly as he coughed to clear his throat.

"Dean?"

"Hey, Sammy," Dean was sure to keep his voice low and soft in hopes of making up for the anger he spat at him earlier. It felt a little odd now seeing as he practically spent a whole day in another life. "Hey, why don't we... ya know, talk?"

Sam made a face that made Dean chuckle and hold a grin on his face. Sam sat up, regardless of his reaction, and ruffled his hair. "What about?"

"Look, I know you don't want to talk to me about what happened while I was away," he began, shut Sam up when he started to protest. "and, well, I know it must have been hard. It _was_ hard, I know. But whatever it is your doing, whatever it is you wanna do... please, let me in on it, too. 'Cause there's no way I'm letting my little brother fight it out on his own."

Sam had stopped breathing a few minutes into the tiny monologue, but Dean kept going.

"I'm proud of you, Sam. I'm proud that, whatever it was you did, you did it because you thought it was what needed to be done. Whether it's good or bad, it's still your choice to make. And I'm not going to hold that against you. But, just listen to me. Really listen, because I ain't saying this twice." Sam nodded a little to quickly. Dean smiled before continuing. "I'm asking you: forget about Lilith, forget about hunting, forget about all this shit we've put ourselves through. Just for a second and really think about what you wanna do. I know this is late... and I know this is what you had at Stanford, but I want you to give it another shot."

Sam's face was slightly confused, a much sweeter version of the Sam's in Dean's dreams, but all together the same. His eyes flickered between Dean's as it always does when he's trying to think.

Something about the words Cas spoke before sending him into the future, or alternate universe, or dream- whatever the hell it was- made Dean think about what was real. What was here now. And based on the answers he found within those thoughts, Dean leaned into Sam. He stopped just before his lips brushed his brother's, searching for disagreement. He tilted his head and closed the gap between them. For a better angle, Dean tilted Sam's own head back.

Sam didn't protest or stir beneath him. Only his breaths became more noticeable as well as the hands creeping up the back of Dean's head. The moment of heated breaths and scouring hands had passed and Dean pressed his forehead against Sam's. Carefully, he opened his eyes to meet the hazel pools reflecting contentment and love off their surfaces.

"Just stay with me," was the only condition Sam countered with. Dean nodded his approval and their lips met once again. But Dean was going to take it slow. He was going to make sure this was what Sam wanted and needed. And he was going to stay by Sam's side until there was no more life left in him.

[*]

_2 years and 10 months later..._

"Heya, Bobby," Dean greeted him with a bear hug, clapping his hand on the old man's back. Sam squeezed past them trying to get away from the dog so mercilessly licking at his hands. Bobby and Dean just laughed at him and Bobby gave him a sympathetic hug in return.

"You boys look good."

"Well, no hunting equals longer life span," Sam chuckled, placing his bag down. "How ya been?"

"Oh, ya know. I actually get to eat since I'm not researching every hour of the day." Bobby eyed Dean, but it was merely just a joke and it sent them laughing some more.

Since they had stopped hunting, the three seemed to laugh a lot easier. And maybe they felt guilty every once in a while and decided to go on a regular salt and burn or deal with some kind of supernatural disturbance if they were in town. But demons were a straight up, I'd-rather-not-die _no_. And it was true that Dean got a little restless. But, ironically, he was most at peace when he was because it reminded him that that itch he wanted to scratch so badly had gone away. He had everything he wanted. His brother slash lover alive, an uncle that was more like a father, and a nice, granite counter top equipped with a damn good coffee maker.

"So... you gonna tell him or am I?" Sam blurted out of nowhere. He didn't look up from his spaghetti and meatballs when he said it.

"Sam..."

"Tell me what? Come on you two."

Dean played around with his food before willing up the courage to speak. "Well, uh... You might freak out a little, but seeing as our lives have never really been _normal_..."

"Spit it out, ya idgit. I'd like to go to sleep sometime in the next year."

Dean gave him a pointed look, but continued.

"Well..."

"Oh for the- We're getting married, Bobby," Sam declared after ten minutes of Dean dancing around the issue.

"Oh...," Bobby choked out, bobbing his head to show the boys he was still all there. "Right, well..."

"Way to put it lightly, Sam."

"At least I put it at all, Dean."

"You two fight like ya already married," Bobby complained.

They laughed it off awkwardly. It was the only thing they could really do at the time. But time passed by and Bobby had come to accept their decision wholeheartedly. He wasn't upset with the boys in the first place, after all. He knew they were the closest people to each other that they had ever had. But he didn't blame it on John or the fact that they were always alone. He didn't blame anything because there was no problem.

After he was aware of the situation between them, he could see the tiniest details betraying their thick facades. And once or twice they let themselves go in front of him, hugging a little longer and little more frequently, or even so much as a peck on the cheek. But it wasn't in the romantic actions that Bobby came to terms with. It was their love for each other. It wasn't just a homoerotic, codependent mess of a romance. It was true, pure, golden love. It was the kind of love people didn't know they had. It was just there because it was real.

And Bobby was more than happy to stride down that long, rose petal disaster of an aisle a week later.


End file.
